Satisfaction
by nottragedi
Summary: Watching Christine was hard watching her as someone's wife is even harder. moviebased finished
1. Garden

Would she have been happy?

I wonder this and many things, never say it. One word and she will know I am there.

In the bright autumn light, Christine looks even more beautiful. Night never suited her. I never suited her. I watch as she wanders through the gardens of her new home, quite some distance from Paris. The house's massive shadow does not reach where she is walking, the sun slowly dipping down as the afternoon waxes on. The leaves are scattered about everywhere, still tumbling from their branches as she walks beneath them.

The boy provided her with everything she could ever want or need here. As much as I hate him, want him to die for taking Christine from me, I will concede that he takes care of her. When he comes home to her, its as if nothing in the world exists except for them. I would have given her that; I gave her that when she came down to my lair.

I am brought back by the coo of the child. A little girl they named Cecilia after the patron saint of music. Christine cradles her the babe in her arms, smiling down at her and talking softly. I wonder if maybe that child should have been mine. A year passed before I saw her in Paris again. He took her everywhere in the world, a whole year of a wedding voyage. Only days later did I hear that they were expecting a child.

I close my eyes as Christine starts to sing. A smile creeps across my disfigured face upon hearing the tune. Even after all she has been through, she still sings my songs. The songs I wrote for her and no one else. It is just the notes, no words. I remember her in the white dressing gown, a sheer skirt, and a bodice that exposed her then virgin flesh. She sat in the boat, watching me as I sung the same song to her. I carried her to the bed after she fainted, everything overwhelming her at once. So close, so close her. Even then, I knew I could not take her, would not take her.

_You alone can make my song take flight._ I look over to her again as the words came from her. I did not know she heard the end of the song. I cram the tears in my eyes back. I let them fall for far too long as I left the dying opera house. No matter how far I went, how fast I ran, I could still hear Christine and Raoul singing as he took her away from me. I close my eyes again, her voice intoxicating me, driving me into bliss I had not felt in so long.

"You're back," she said, a bright smile on her face as her husband walks over to her and the baby. I watch him plant a gentle kiss on the child's cheek, softly stroking her curls. Envy creeps into me, rage inflamed as he kisses Christine. I have my sword, my hand clutching at the hilt. I could kill him now, take him from this world. He is defenseless! He would rather die than see Christine or Cecilia harmed.

That is what stops me. I see how happy Christine is when they pull back. The sunlight makes her look like an angel, a goddess. I slip silently from my place and walk beside them, hidden by the large, thick bushes. I watch through the foliage as he guides her back to the house. The door shut to the outside world and I begin to climb to a rooftop entrance.

I am not leaving just yet.


	2. Imagine

I inhale deeply as the light scent of roses drifts over me. Vases of pink, red, and white line the counter that runs beneath the long window by bathtub. I watch as Christine shifts again in the deep water, surrounded by fluffy mounds of bubbles. Her hair is pulled up in loose bunch and held in place by an ornate clip. She's been in the water for thirty minutes now, the steam still slowly trying to escape.

A fantasy fulfilled.

I watch her slowly rise from the tub, allowing the bubbles to slide from her soft skin. The lights in her boudoir cast an erotic shadow on her shape. I study her completely, from her slender neck down to her feet, everything beyond than what I imagined. Every curve I touched through material revealed to me now. I love how her neck tapers down into her supple breasts, now swollen and round from feeding Cecilia. Her belly is smooth and flat, curving delicately on the sides down into her hips. My eyes graze down through the middle of her legs, seeing that tiny wisp of hair, onward to her thighs and calves. Her feet small and moving with a grace only a dedicated ballerina could have.

I curse mentally at myself. That body was mine! I had her! I could have watched this form everyday for all of my life! Why? Why didn't I just take her?! I inhale deeply again, closing my eyes to regain control of myself.

I open my eyes as she slips on her purple robe. The light flutters through the silk, causing me to catch my breath. She sits at her vanity, anything but vain herself. Her hair tumbles down from the clip, bouncing lightly and dancing across her back. I jump slightly as a servant enters to assist her. The small woman stands behind her, blocking my view. I shift to the side and watch her reflection. The servant brushes her hair, listening as Christine speaks lightly about plans for the next day. I do not hear her words, only watching her lips open and shut, widen and shrink, press and roll together.

I leave as she does, finding my way to her room.

* * *

I watch for my own satisfaction. I have watched over her since she was a child, every moment painful and wonderful at the same time. I came here to see her again. Despite being shown all the things, I could never have given her.

Now is no different.

I watch as Raoul continues to kiss her neck, hands roaming over her body. Christine's eyes fluttered shut long ago, soft moans and whimpers escaping her lips. She shifts her body as he slips her nightgown up and over her head. There, laying bear naked on his bed, captured beneath his body is the woman I called my own.

I focus on what he does to her, wanting to see how much he cares for her. The way a man makes love to a woman speaks volumes of his affection for her. He moves his kisses from her neck to her breasts, putting pressure on them with his lips and hands. I look up as she moans louder, arms around his shoulders, her one leg over his body.

He treats every part of her with equal care and attention before taking her. They still kiss, breaking only for air. Even then, they separate for seconds at a time. I watch her start to sweat, whimpers now gasping moans as they continue. Her hands play across his back, grasping onto him as if he were a lifeline.

My mind slips and imagines I am in his place. She does these things with me, I now her lifeline. I can taste her kiss, feeling her moan into my mouth. Not his. Her long legs are tightly wound around my body, rubbing against me as we roll into each other. I feel her grasp tighten on me, moans louder as she begins to climax. I begin to go with her, bodies entwined, hearts united.

I open my eyes and watch as they stiffen against each other. His face is in her shoulder, arms holding her so close, their skin almost melts together. Her head is thrown back; eyes squeezed shut, elation plastered across her features. I hear her voice, raised now in moan that sounds beyond satisfied.

Raoul cradles her in his arms, allowing her to fall back gently onto their massive bed. They are still for a while, both catching their breath as their sweat begins to cool. I watch with fiery jealousy as he kisses her forehead.

"I love you," he whispers, looking into the endless depths of her eyes.

"And I love you," she says back softly. I watch as they kiss again, hating him more by the moment. They shift into each other, her head resting just beneath his chin.

I force myself to leave this scene. My blood boils beyond anything I ever knew.


	3. Song

I sit now, just watching as the sliver of a moon ascends the sky. The night reveals its secret beauty now. Stars glisten brightly in the pitch black, a sweet light cast down from them.

But I do not see this. I cannot even think straight. My anger broils my body and soul. I do not why I watch them. I knew what was going to happen, that I would see how much he loves her. Yet I stayed. I wanted that complete knowledge of everything she has. Everything I should be giving her.

"Christine," I say softly as tears pool in my eyes. I should not have come here to see her, I realize. I cannot see her again. I begin to move when I hear a small noise. I wait for a moment, and then it comes again, drifting from the room next to me. Carefully and silently, I follow my curiosity to the next room.

The dimmed lights are revealed to me as I open the door slowly. My eyes search the paled darkness and rest upon the shape in the middle of the room. I shut the door and go to the sound that emulates from here.

I look down and see Cecilia, awake and moving in her cradle.

She sees me and stops for a few moments. Automatically, I touch my face, sighing silently as I felt the mask's ever-lasting cover. I look into the pale blue orbs that stare right back into mine. A feeling of confusion and being lost come over me. The baby's innocent eyes pierce my blackened soul, hurting me more than anyone can tell.

I watch as her hands open and close, searching for something to hold. Without thinking, I lower my hand to her's, smiling as her fingers wrap tightly around one of my own. Kneeling down, I watch her for a while more. She looks exactly like Christine. Her hair is brown and curly, just long enough to swirl off the top of her head. I imagine, once again smiling, that she will grow to have the body of a dancer as well, graceful and beautiful.

And her voice.

God, I would teach her as well. I would be her Angel of Music. She would sing as the Prima Donna at every opera house in Paris.

I come back to reality. Sobering reality. This child might never see a stage in her lifetime. If Christine and Raoul keep their promise, the promise never to tell of an angel in hell. Cecilia will be a dancer and, no doubt, a singer. But she will never see a stage to perform upon.

She begins to whimper, her mouth curled up as she prepares to cry aloud. I shush her softly, my other hand running over her head, her curls the same softness as her mother's.

_Close your eyes, let your spirit to soar. And you live as you never lived before._ I sing the words to the tiny child, watching as she quieted and became enraptured by my voice.

_Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave of thoughts of the life your knew before. Let your song take you long to be. _I pause, knowing the next words as they began to stab at my heart.

_Only then can you belong to me._ I continue softly, being sure not to alert anyone to my presence with Cecilia.

_You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the……night. _

I watch with satisfaction as her eyelids slid down and sleep took her again. Against my conscience, I lean in and gently kissed her cheek.

* * *

I wasn't used to having the wind on both halves of my face. A strange feeling came over me. I felt whole. Like that part of me I longed for in Christine was there, even though she wasn't.

I look back at the window to Cecilia's room. Christine came in shortly after I left, the light going up in the room once I landed on the ground.

She found it already. She'll hide it from Raoul for sure. I can only hope one day she breaks her promise. I hope one day, Cecilia realizes how beautiful and amazing she and her mother truly are.

I pull my cloak around tighter. The angel of music lives again. But only for a small child. Hopefully.


	4. Epilogue

_Dearest Cecilia,_

_Now, as I watch you, sleeping in your cradle, I cannot believe I was blessed with you. My entire life has been spent escaping the tragedy of my father's death. I pray you never feel that pain yourself at so young an age. I realize that all the roads I've taken and been taken down have lead me to this place, your father as my husband, a man who would rather die than see either of us harmed or pained, and you, our first child._

_But I fear for you already. I know one day, you'll hear his voice too. You'll hear his words, his song, his music, and so deeply in love with it, the rest of the world will fall away. I know this because I did. I escaped him and he has let me go. You, however, are within his sight and I know he will find you one day. Your dreams will be delirious with the music that only he can write. He'll write for you one day too. A song for you, for your grace, for your beauty, for your love._

_Despite what my mind tells me, I tell you what my heart says: follow that music. Follow it, be one with it, and your heart and soul will go higher than anything any physical pleasure could ever achieve. I know you will not be sucked into his world and become a prisoner of it like I did. You will be stronger and you will follow your dreams without inhibition._

_I love you, Cecilia Erika, more than you could ever know. You will sing and the world will fall at your feet._

_The Angel of Music will fall at your feet._

_With All My Heart & Soul, Your Mother, Christine Daae_

Cecilia read the letter for the thousandth time. The paper still smelled like her mother's rose oil perfume, the crease lines from reading it so many times only magnifying the beautiful handwriting. She folded it again and placed it in her box. A knock came at the dressing room door.

"Cecilia? Five minutes to curtain," Mademoiselle Meg, the new ballet mistress, said through the door. Cecilia turned back to her reflection and double checked her hair. The stars in her hair glistened beautifully. She rose and started for the door, her long white dress for Act Three trailing behind her.

At the last minute, she turned and went back to her box. Opening it, she pulled out its contents. Her mother's letter, the article about her father's opera house going up in a fire, the announcement for l'Opera de Paris' performance of Hannibal. Finally, she reached what she wanted to get. Lifting it gently, she kissed it, holding it close.

"Guide me tonight," she whispered, placing it back on her table. She returned all the other things to her box. She quickly exited the dressing room to the stage.

When she returned to her dressing room, that of the resident prima donna, she exhalled deeply. Outside her door, the celebration began for the successful premiere of the show. Her eyes caught a welcome sight on her vanity, tears she stopped from her successful performance welling up again.

A red rose with a black ribbon rested beside the white mask. Her Angel was pleased.


End file.
